‘Twas pre-funk holidays at 5 Eleven Boren Ave North,
Not a creature was stirring, except the BigDoor employees, of course.
Their stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
knowing a billion API calls would soon be there.
The Ops team was nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of stable Sharded environments danced through their heads.
Jeff and the Preacher in their kerchiefs; the Dial Tone and Doctor in their caps,
in separate beds of course, settled their brains for a well-deserved nap.
When on Boren Ave arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my 3 X 4 desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutters and threw up the sun-shading sash.
SLU was lit up with Paul Allen’s lights;
AMZN was glowing with the new Kindle so bright.
When what to my wondering eyes should arise,
but a blacked out Range Rover, with eight bro-grammers and their bloodshot eyes;
Oh my!
With a little driver, lively and quick with wit;
I knew in a moment it must be Keith or Roy Schmidt.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
they whistled, and shouted, they called them by name!
“Now Bryan! Now, Brian! Now Brian and you too Brian!
On, Adam! On, Adam! On Conor and Jacobsen!”
“Now Gerry! Now, Carrie! Now, BImmel and Oldfield!
On, Estes! On, Dias! Watson and Speidel!”
“To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Its Gamification folks, and BigDoor takes all!”
As P zero’s before the wild hurricane fly,
when these bugs turn up, they curse, they are not shy.
So up to the white board the coursers they flew,
they rally the Sprint and yes the monk, Sung Kim too!
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
the prancing and pawing of each little boot.
These devs they were hip, these devs were bad,
these devs had “skillz” that could be only “mad.”
He was dressed all Metro, from his head to his foot;
His clothes were well fitted and ripped where they should.
A bundle of technology he flung on his back;
He was Big Pimpin,’ just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His little mouth drawn cuz he knew he was killin’ it.
What more could he ask for, yes, he was billin’ it.
The deal-signing-pen tucked behind his ear;
He looked at the cookies and milk and exclaimed: “WTF, no Beer?”
He had the Droid, and the iPad 2,
but he was still on a PC, how does he do?
He was shorter than short, a self-deprecating elf,
I dared not laugh when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a scratch of his head,
I knew I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work;
He filled all the stockings; he says he is, but he’s not that big of a jerk.
And laying his finger on the side of his nose,
He pinched himself in his own disbelief, then up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to the team gave a whistle,
and away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Buddha to all, and to all a good night!”
A very Happy Holidays to you and yours!
-Team BigDoor
(Special thanks to our own HR Nasty for the holiday poetry!)
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